Morning
by Mingsmommy
Summary: “It seems every time I forget how quickly life can change, I am served with another reminder.”


**Rating: **Teen  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own CSI or any of its characters. I am making no money. Seriously. Nor do I own Farming the Bones.  
**Spoilers:** Post _NoWay Out_  
**Thanks:** Kristen Elizabeth, beta, friend, supporter and therapist. She betaed, but I messed with it afterwards, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Kristen suggested Farming the Bones by Edwidge Danticat for the book; I am grateful. Oh, and today is her birthday, so you should tell her happy birthday! And I will too…Happy birthday, Kristen!

* * *

The front of the facility faced the east and the light from the rising sun shone through the window, gleaming in pools against the highly polished tile floors, giving the figure walking up the hall his own golden aura, as though he were lit with heavenly fire.

The early morning hush held a stillness not found at any other time of day. The few sounds and voices to be heard were muted and slow in deference, almost reverence. The smell of the place never altered, clean, but not antiseptic, slightly floral, but not overpowering and always crisp as though everything had just been freshly laundered and ironed.

At the station, a nurse, blonde with a kind face and lovely eyes, looked up from the chart she was updating and smiled. "Dr. Langston. It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you as well, Rosemary. Are you filling in?" His voice, as always, was deep and slow, somehow giving extra weight to his polite and careful words.

"Nope." She flipped the chart closed and clicked her pen. "Switched shifts. Heard you were working nights now; had to switch to keep up with my favorite visitor. " She winked. "Who else am I going to talk to about my orchids?"

He gave a quick smile. "You'll have to let me know how the hydroponics goes. I've read conflicting reports on the efficacy."

The nurse beamed at him. "You would not believe the beauties I have coming up right now! There's one…it's a purple like nothing I've seen before."

"Are you still planning the trip to Central America?" He casually rested an elbow on the counter.

"Yep. We leave in two weeks. My husband is probably more excited than I am."

Smiling softly, he nodded. "One of the joys of marriage is sharing your interests and passions."

With a flash of guilt crossing her face, she started. "Oh, Dr. Langston." She blushed and her tone held a wealth of contrition and grief, "I'm…"

He held up a staying hand. "It's all right, Rosemary. It is the same as it ever was." His smile this time was a bit fuller, but a bit sadder. "May I see the chart?"

Still flushed, Rosemary silently handed him the cool metal case.

He perused the pages within, skimming quickly, then focusing on detail. "The rise in temperature was an anomaly?"

"Dr. Richards ordered blood work, but her temps been in normal range since." Her eyes flicked to the chart and back to his face. "So, it's probably nothing."

Absently, he nodded and continued reading.

After a few silent moments and one last flip of the pages, he closed the chart. "Would you make a note to have Dr. Richards phone me at his convenience when the labs come back?"

Accepting the chart from him, she nodded. "Of course, Dr. Langston."

"Thank you, Rosemary." He adjusted his glasses, beginning a slow walk down the hall. "I appreciate your help."

"You're welcome, Dr. Langston." She pulled another chart and opened it on the desk in front of her. "It really is nice to see you again."

Pausing, he turned back to her, briefly, his lips turning up ever so slightly. "It is always a pleasure for me to see a familiar and friendly face." Nodding, he turned on his heel and continued on his way.

Three doors to the right, he stopped, inhaled deeply, slowly exhaled then entered the room.

The light was still low in the room, but he knew soon the level would be raised as the day got underway; the passage of time measured in light levels raised and lowered, the changing of sheets, the turning of bodies. The hiss of the respirator and the beep of the monitors created a soothing rhythm in the dimness and he felt an odd peace steal over him as he approached the slight, still figure in the bed. "Hello, Lydia."

First he pressed a kiss to her forehead, automatically noting the cool skin; then he scanned her with a practiced and professional eye. "I understand your fever spiked yesterday. I believe I've warned you about that." His eyes swept towards the monitors, then back to her unchanging face. "Pneumonia would not be a good thing for you at all, so let's try to avoid it if we can, all right?"

Satisfied with the readings of the machines, he pulled the lone chair in the room close to the bedside and sat. Automatically, he reached out and clasped her hand. "I'm sorry I didn't come to see you yesterday morning." He sighed. "The circumstances were…extenuating."

Squeezing her fingers lightly, he continued. "Now, you needn't worry, everything turned out all right. I'm not about to add making you a widow to my other sins, but there was a situation at work."

His eyes moved over her face. "It seems every time I forget how quickly life can change, I am served with another reminder."He paused as though waiting for an answer that would never come. "It does seem…disloyal of me to forget that, even for a moment. But, I do, from time to time; I hope you can forgive the lapse." He moved his thumb gently over the back of her hand. "Since the accident, and…everything that followed, I've been trying to figure it all out. Who am I supposed to be? What is it that gives my life its purpose? I remember you telling me all those years ago that I was supposed to use my gifts to change the world. But without your voice to guide me, I can't seem to find my way."

Only someone who knew him well would have heard the slight quiver in his voice. He stopped and cleared his throat. "You know, I thought this job might be the solution…I thought it could be a way to help without all of the ghosts I had with medicine. But, now, I…"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he heaved a sigh. "They're just boys. Children, both of them. The oldest one is the same age Robert would be now if he had lived." He shook his head, his fist clenched against his thigh. "Such a waste. All of that potential, all of that life…wasted."

The room was silent for a few moments save for the mechanical noise in the air, the pump and hiss, the hum and beep. The second hand swept forward, eventually carrying the minute hand with it and then it moved around again.

Eventually, he sighed and patted her hand. "I'm sorry, my dear. I'm afraid the experience has left me more melancholy than I realized." He leaned forward and turned on the lamp beside the bed. "Let's turn to more cheerful matters, shall we?" Reaching into the drawer of the bedside table, he withdrew a hardback book. "As I recall, our heroine was in an interesting situation when last we left her." His thick finger found the ribbon book mark and parted the pages. "Ah, yes, here we are."

_"I'm afraid to be shy, distant and cold. I am afraid I cease to exist when he's not there. I'm like one of those sea stones that sucks its colors inside and loses its translucence once it's taken out into the sun, out of the forth of the waves. When he's not there, I'm afraid I know no one and no one knows me."_

Slowly, the sunlight filled the room and the buzz of activity could be heard in the hall. Voices exchanged quiet greetings and the occasional clang of equipment jarred the air, but as morning turned to afternoon and the world moved forward, he read on.


End file.
